


afterthought

by capsule



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, One-Sided Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsule/pseuds/capsule
Summary: Haechan isn't someone Jaemin wants to acknowledge, but he keeps showing up anyway.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	afterthought

  
  
  


3pm has the sun burning down brightly over the open space of the rooftop cafe. Jaemin finds a seat in the corner, at a table that has at least a little bit of shade, and settles down with his drink, facing the stairs. He wants to make sure he can see when Jeno arrives.

It’s warm for the start of spring. Jaemin feels a bead of sweat roll down the side of his forehead and he wipes it away. Somewhere to his right, a couple of tables from where he’s sitting, a girl passes him a glance from over her shoulder, distracted from her conversation with her friend. He pays her no mind and turns his attention to his phone.

He has to squint to see the screen clearly. There’s only one message he cares about: a message from Jeno, telling Jaemin he’s sorry he’s late but he’s on his way.

 _Be there in 5_ , Jeno says. _Bringing a friend. Hope you don’t mind._

Jaemin minds, but he knows he can’t tell Jeno that. He still wants to, more than anything. He hasn’t failed to notice how this is becoming a habit: Jeno being late, Jeno always bringing a friend. Jaemin dislikes them all.

Jeno’s friend lags a few steps behind Jeno when they make their way up the stairs, enough so for Jaemin to think for a few hopeful seconds that he’s not coming at all. It’s just Jeno in that moment before the disappointment hits. Jeno in his sleeveless white tank top showing off his sculpted shoulders, skin shining under the brightness of the sun, a warm smile spreading across his face when he spots Jaemin. 

The moment doesn’t last.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Jeno says when he reaches the table, pausing for a moment to pull up an extra chair. “Practice ran over. This is Haechan.”

Jaemin thought he knew all of Jeno’s dance friends, at least by name, but he’s never heard Jeno mention Haechan before. From looking at him now, he appears to be around the same age as them. Similar in height too, though his posture is terrible. Haechan slouches into his chair and stretches his legs out, glancing over at Jaemin from underneath the brim of his hat.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Jaemin says.

“Haechan just joined us,” answers Jeno. “He’s been training at an agency, so he knows a lot.”

“Training? What, to be an idol?”

Haechan shrugs. “I was.”

“You got cut.”

Jaemin doesn’t miss the way Jeno’s shoulders draw tense. He’s sure if he glanced over at him, he would see Jeno’s mouth pulled tight into an uncomfortable smile, eyes wide with the force of his glare. He doesn’t look, because he doesn’t care.

Haechan just stares at Jaemin dead in the eye, and says, “Yeah. That’s right.”

The silence that follows is awkward and heavy. Jaemin settles back in his seat, a dark sense of satisfaction warming his core. He’s too tired to worry about how petty his victories are. Months of repressed frustration have worn him down.

Jeno gets the conversation back on track, the way he always does. Jaemin can fall into the familiar rhythm like nothing has changed. He saves his responses for Jeno and doesn’t bother to acknowledge Haechan any further. It’s fine. They all know the two of them aren’t going to become friends.

Afterwards, Jaemin assumes he won’t see Haechan again. At least not anytime soon. The next time he meets Jeno there will be another new face, and Jaemin will prod where he shouldn’t, and the thread that keeps Jeno returning will wear a bit thinner, ready to snap.

He’s wrong. Jeno shows up at Jaemin’s uni a week later for lunch with Haechan by his side. Haechan barely speaks to Jaemin. He barely speaks at all. He just sits and observes, a discomfiting presence that Jaemin can’t quite ignore.

Jaemin hasn’t been a member of Jeno’s dance crew in years, but he still gets the occasional invite to their group dinners. Partly because he’s Jeno’s best friend; partly because he was one of them once, and the core group remember even though he stopped hanging out with most of them after he quit. He might have stuck it out longer if not for his back. Thinking about that fills him with bitterness when he sees Jeno laughing with people he doesn’t recognise.

At least he has Jisung to keep him company. He’s always been fond of Jisung, from the moment he joined as a short, skinny kid with no real friends, only interested in dance, until now: taller than Jaemin, and on the cusp of adulthood, but still carrying and endearing sort of awkwardness that makes him easy to baby. Jaemin passes him strips of meat off the grill and asks him about his classes, his new girlfriend, what he’s been up to since they last met.

He ignores Haechan sitting across the table from them. Haechan has other people to talk to, anyway; there’s no need for them to interact until Jisung makes an error.

“Haechan is really good at dancing,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the restaurant. “Our next performance is going to be awesome. You should come watch.”

With Haechan now staring at him, waiting for his response, Jaemin feels like he has something to prove.

“I’m pretty busy with school these days,” he says, looking more at Haechan than at Jisung. “I probably won’t have time.”

Beside him, Jisung deflates. Irrational anger curls through Jaemin’s chest with the knowledge that Jisung has been made to feel disappointed. Collateral damage. Jisung deserves better.

Haechan doesn’t say anything. He just scoffs softly and turns away.

At the end of the night, Jaemin waits outside the restaurant for Jeno to finish saying his goodbyes so they can catch the same train home. The air is cold this late, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, arms pressed tightly to his sides. He can smell cigarette smoke drifting his way from a nearby group. He thinks about joining them just to give himself something to do.

“Hey. You want one?”

Jaemin turns to see Haechan beside him, a cigarette tucked between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He glances down at the offering, and then briefly at Haechan’s face. Haechan’s expression is perfectly neutral.

Jaemin sniffs and turns away. “I don’t smoke.”

He hears Haechan’s sharp inhale, his lingering sigh. Nothing else follows. There’s no click of a lighter, no footsteps departing. Haechan stays where he is, a distracting presence in Jaemin’s periphery.

“Not that I really care, but if you keep acting like such a dick to me, Jeno’s going to realise it’s because you’re in love with him. He’s not that much of an idiot.”

The full weight of Haechan’s words don’t hit him at once. They’re broken down into shards that leave small cuts in quick succession, an attack too surprising for Jaemin to mount a proper defence. Haechan might as well have tripped up his feet and watched him fall flat on his ass.

His reply comes a few seconds too late. “I’m not in love with Jeno.”

Haechan just stares at him. His silence is somehow more humiliating than the sarcastic rejoinder Jaemin expected.

Nothing more is said until Jeno returns, smiling and oblivious and ready to leave. He goes to Haechan first, says his goodbyes. Jaemin stares at the hand Haechan places on Jeno’s forearm, lightly resting near his wrist.

“Ready to head home?” Jeno says to him. Jaemin looks up. Haechan is watching him.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. “Let’s go.”

Jaemin’s roommate, Renjun, studies medicine and seems constantly pissed off about it. Every few months he drags Jaemin up to the rooftop of their apartment block with soju and smokes just to get some of the pent-up frustration out. Jaemin doesn’t really drink and he doesn’t really smoke. He’s not really friends with Renjun either, but he likes the feeling of Renjun’s anger, so bright and sharp and unrestrained. 

“You’re so fucking mopey lately,” Renjun says to him. “What’s that about?”

Jaemin exhales slowly, watching the curls of smoke that spill from the end of his cigarette drift upwards and off to the side, caught by the breeze. “Nothing,” he says. “I’m fine.”

For the most part, Renjun is an easy person to live with. He gives Jaemin his space, keeps the boundaries that preserve their continued, pleasant coexistence intact. 

Drinking always alters the balance of their dynamics. Alcohol strips away Renjun’s patience and his filter. 

“You’re not ‘fine’,” Renjun says, harsher than he needs to be. “You’ve barely left your room all week.”

“I like my room.”

Renjun makes a strangled noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “Fine. Whatever,” he says. “I don’t really care.”

Jaemin turns his head towards Renjun. He considers Renjun standing there, in profile, sucking sharply on the end of his cigarette and frowning at nothing in particular. His white button-down, normally neatly pressed, is wrinkled and billowing out slightly from where it’s tucked into the narrow waistband of his pants. The wind has picked up his hair from his forehead and his cheeks have a hint of a rosy flush.

He’s handsome, Jaemin thinks. Especially the way he’s standing now. He looks like he could be the protagonist of a movie.

If Renjun is the protagonist, Jaemin wonders what that makes him.

“Would you ever date me if I asked you out?”

Renjun squints at him, head tilting to the side. “Are you asking me in a real way, like if you asked me tomorrow would I say yes? Or is this a hypothetical ‘ _do you think I’m dateable?’_ kind of thing?”

Jaemin isn’t sure. He didn’t think about it that deeply.

“The first one?”

“Would I say yes if you asked me out tomorrow?” Renjun pauses and thinks for a second, looking at Jaemin carefully. “Probably not,” he says. “I have exams coming up. And I like living with you, for the most part. I don’t want to screw that up.”

Jaemin frowns. “The second, then.”

Renjun shrugs. “You’re not really my type.”

Jaemin doesn’t know why he even asked. He turns away, fixing his gaze on the building across from them. The exposed balconies show insight into their owners--assorted plants on some, nothing at all on others. Someone has their laundry hanging out on a rack, perfectly visible from where Jaemin is standing, an assortment of colour that stands out against the drab, brown brick.

While staring at the clothes swinging gently in the breeze, Jaemin says, “I think I’m undateable.”

‘Hey,” says Renjun, gentle in a way he wasn’t before. “I was just messing around. Of course you’re dateable--I just said I liked living with you, didn’t I? And if you try to pretend like you’re not hideously attractive, I’ll hit you, I promise.”

Jaemin has been told too many times by too many people about his good looks to deny them. He can recognise in photographs how his face looks small and well-balanced, how his body is nicely toned from all the time spent at the gym. 

Knowing that still feels meaningless.

“What does it matter if I’m not attractive to the right person?”

Renjun doesn’t reply for a moment. He stares at Jaemin while the breeze picks up and pricks at Jaemin’s bare skin, making him shiver.

“Then maybe they’re not the right person,” Renjun says.

_you live around hongdae, right? are you doing anything right now?_

_Who is this?_

_haechan_

_i know you don’t like me but i don’t know anyone else who lives around here_

_can you come meet me?_

When Jaemin finds Haechan waiting out the front of a 7-11, he’s not sure what to expect. Some kind of emergency, he assumes. Something important enough for Haechan to be desperate enough to message him.

He’s confused when Haechan drags him inside a nearby restaurant and heads for an empty table. Jaemin remains standing while Haechan takes a seat, staring down at him with a questioning look.

“What?” Haechan says.

“You messaged me because you wanted to have lunch?”

“I’m hungry and I don’t want to eat alone. Are you going to sit or are you going to leave?”

Jaemin hesitates. “I’m not going to pay for you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Jaemin should leave, but he finds himself sliding into the empty chair. His eyes remain fixed on Haechan, waiting for some kind of trick that never comes. Haechan pays him little attention. He’s focussed on the menu, deciding what he wants to eat, and eventually Jaemin has to look away so he can decide too.

Their food arrives with barely another word spoken. Phones are an easy distraction, for a while, at least. Jaemin doesn’t want to be curious about Haechan but he is. He still can’t make sense of the chain of events that led to this moment.

“Why are you in Hongdae?” Jaemin asks.

Haechan shrugs. “Why not? Plenty of things to do in Hongdae.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “What are you doing in Hongdae alone?”

“I wasn’t alone.” Haechan reaches across the table for the dish of kimchi placed near Jaemin’s rice. “I met up with my girlfriend. We broke up.”

He says it so casually, Jaemin can’t do anything else but stare. 

Haechan meets his eyes and pauses for a moment, chopsticks suspended in midair. “What’s wrong? Do you feel bad for me now?”

“No,” Jaemin says, not needing to think about it.

“Well that’s cold.”

“You don’t seem all that upset.”

Haechan shrugs and returns to his food. “How would you know? Maybe I’m just good at faking it.” 

Hongdae is busy in the middle of the afternoon. Students and couples all weaving past each other in the slow-moving crowd, spilling in and out of the shops that line the streets. It’s easy for Jaemin to follow the path Haechan sets. He stops when Haechan does, keeps up with his whims, lagging one step behind but never choosing to depart.

In Espoir, Haechan turns to him, brandishing a q-tip in his hand. “Close your eyes,” he says, and Jaemin balks.

“Just do it,” Haechan says.

The drag of the q-tip across his eyelid makes Jaemin flinch. He opens his eyes and blinks a few times until the lingering sensation settles and fades.

“What was that for?” Jaemin says.

“I need to buy my sister a birthday present. Wanted to see how it looks.” 

In Haechan’s left hand is an open eyeshadow palette, twin hearts of glittery powder in pink and gold. Jaemin wonders which colour is adorning him now.

“Do you ever wear makeup?” Haechan asks.

Jaemin replies, “No.”

Haechan tilts his head, considering Jaemin for a few seconds. “It suits you,” he says.

Jaemin’s parents never loved the idea of him moving to Seoul by himself. To assuage some of their worries, they insisted on covering all of his finances for the duration of his studies. The idea was that he shouldn’t be burdened unnecessarily by the added pressure of a part-time job. He could just focus on achieving his dream and making them proud.

Jaemin has never been sure if that was the right choice. Seeing Renjun balance his long hours of study with his shifts at the convenience store always left Jaemin feeling inadequate. After he quit dancing, the idle hours he spent sitting around his room became too much. Jaemin started looking for volunteer work during his second year. 

The dog shelter is about an hour away from Jaemin’s apartment, in a quiet part of Goyang, a long walk from the station. He enjoys the walk, though the air is humid enough to make his shirt stick to his back after ten minutes. Lost in his thoughts and listening to music, the time passes quickly.

He looks for Sunny first, as he always does; a Jindo cross who arrived the same week Jaemin did. She’s affectionate as always. Jaemin scratches her neck and strokes her fur and feels regret, once again, that he can’t take her home.

Before he moves on, Jaemin takes a picture of Sunny and sends it to Haechan. They met up again for lunch two days prior, after another random invite from Haechan with a flimsy pretext that never got revisited. Jaemin mentioned the dog shelter at one point, offhandedly, and Haechan’s eyes lit up with an enthusiasm Jaemin hadn’t seen before.

Barely a minute after his text, Haechan video calls him. “I want to meet the doggies,” he says. “Let me see them.”

Jaemin finds the whole thing a bit exasperating, but he turns his phone around and takes Haechan on a journey through the shelter while Haechan coos affectionately through the screen.

“You could just come and meet them in person,” Jaemin says, feeling tired from all of the crouching. “It’s not that far.”

“I’m already at the studio and we’re supposed to be rehearsing all afternoon. You could have told me you were planning to go today. I would have ditched.” 

Jaemin hums. “Maybe next time.”

“Jaemin, get off,” Renjun complains when Jaemin ambushes him from behind, wrapping his arms around Renjun’s chest and settling comfortably against his back. “I’m taking a ten minute break from studying to eat, but that’s it. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

Jaemin doesn’t feel inclined to move just yet. “You work too hard. Watch a movie with me.”

“Why are you in such a good mood? What happened to locking yourself in your room and not bothering me?” As much as Renjun’s complaining, he hasn’t tried to move yet, standing still enough for Jaemin to maintain his position locked around him. “I think I liked that better,” Renjun says.

After Jaemin finally lets him go, Renjun turns around and studies him for a few seconds before letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine,” he says. “Give me two hours of total peace and quiet, and then we can watch a movie. My pick.”

Jaemin spends his time waiting for Renjun stretched out on the couch watching a drama with the volume low and the subtitles on. He loses himself in the story of betrayal and intrigue, of characters with clear goals struggling to triumph over shadowy external forces, always maintaining their integrity even when everything falls apart.

At some point, his phone lights up with a message from Jeno, inviting Jaemin to come watch his dance crew perform at a competition in two weeks. Jaemin checks the date; he has class at the same time. It’s not a big deal. Jeno has lots of performances, and sometimes Jaemin watches him, sometimes he doesn’t.

Still, he feels a bit of regret.

“Okay, I thought about it, and I want to watch something with lots of action and not much plot,” Renjun says when he emerges from his room. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Jaemin nods and sits up slowly, making space for Renjun to sit. Renjun’s face softens into a small frown. “You okay?” he says, crossing the room to join Jaemin. “Did something happen?”

Jaemin shakes his head.

Renjun doesn’t look convinced, but he reaches for the remote and settles back against the couch cushions. “Zombies,” he says. “That’s what we need right now.”

The third time Haechan drags Jaemin out for a meal, they run into a couple of Haechan’s friends on their way to the station. Jaemin hangs back while they chat, staring off vacantly so it doesn’t feel like he’s intruding. It’s strange pretending to be invisible, pretending to be uninterested when he’s really grasping at every scrap of new insight he can glean from the casual interaction.

After they leave, Jaemin looks at Haechan and says, “Why did they call you Donghyuck?”

“It’s my name.”

“Your name is Donghyuck?” Jaemin frowns. 

“Haechan is just a nickname that stuck. When I was training, the company thought it sounded better and I kept using it for dance stuff.” Haechan shrugs, clearly bored of the subject. “Whatever, I don’t care either way. Most of my friends still call me Donghyuck.”

Jaemin stops. “So I’m not your friend.”

Haechan turns around and frowns at Jaemin. “Huh?”

“You said your friends call you Donghyuck. You didn’t even tell me that’s your name.” Jaemin swallows, feeling his resentment grow. “What, I’m good enough to keep you company when you’re bored, but not good enough to be your friend?”

The confusion on Haechan’s face morphs into a look of incredulous frustration. “You tell me, Jaemin. You always seem so pissed off when you’re around me. Why do you even come?”

Jaemin doesn’t have an answer for him. Haechan turns away, and continues walking towards the station. Jaemin lags a step behind.

When Haechan passes through the turnstiles, Jaemin doesn’t follow. It takes Haechan a few steps to realise. His eyes are wide when he spins around and sees Jaemin standing still, mouth caught hanging open.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he makes his way back to the barrier separating them.

“I’m going home.”

Jaemin doesn’t think anything more needs to be said. He drops his arms from his chest and turns to leave.

“Jaemin!”

Jaemin looks back. Haechan is pressed up against one of the turnstiles. His eyes are hard with anger.

“I lied to you before,” Haechan says. “About Jeno finding out. You think he doesn’t already know? Why do you think he asked me to come with him to the coffee shop that time we met?”

Jaemin stares at Haechan. He keeps his gaze steady, not letting his expression shift. 

Without saying a word, Jaemin leaves. 

Renjun returns to the apartment after his exams in high spirits. He grins when he sees Jaemin, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. It’s nice to see him happy and relaxed after two straight weeks of stress and despair. Jaemin had been starting to get worried about their water bill with how long Renjun’s showers had gotten.

It’s only 8pm when Renjun walks in. Jaemin’s leftovers from dinner are still sitting out on the table before him, warm enough to be perfectly edible. He gestures towards them as Renjun approaches, an offer that Renjun declines with a firm shake of his head.

“Let’s go out,” he says, grabbing at Jaemin to pull him up from the table. “I want to celebrate now I’m finally free.”

Renjun is easy enough to resist; weak at the best of times, and too unsteady now to leverage his weight effectively. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your med friends?” Jaemin says while Renjun continues to tug at him unsuccessfully.

“We had a few drinks,” Renjun replies, as if that wasn’t obvious. “But they had something else planned and I didn’t feel like crashing.”

“So I’m your second choice.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Don’t try the self-pity act on me, it’s not going to work. Come on, it’s Friday, and I know you don’t have anything better planned. Indulge me.”

They end up in a bar in the middle of Hongdae, where the cocktails are sweet enough to suit both of their tastes. Renjun insists on paying, and Jaemin doesn’t put up too much of a fight. There will be an opportunity for him to return the favour, when Renjun is too drunk to notice. At the rate Renjun is going, it won’t take too long. 

“So,” Renjun says, leaning across the table to stare Jaemin down, a glint in his eyes. “Tell me: who is this guy you’re so hung up on?”

Jaemin takes a second to think. “Which one?”

“There’s more than one?” Renjun leans back, eyebrows raised high. “Damn.”

Jaemin shrugs. There’s not much to say. He hasn’t told anyone about his strange meetups with Haechan, or the fight that cut their last encounter short. Two weeks have passed since then. Jaemin hasn’t spoken to Haechan once. He’s hardly spoken to Jeno, either, just the occasional, brief message, nothing interesting or noteworthy.

“I want to meet them,” Renjun says.

Jaemin shoots him a cold look. “No.”

“At least let me meet one of them! Seriously, if I have to listen to you blasting your emo playlist, I deserve to get to know who’s responsible.” Renjun reaches for Jaemin’s phone sitting on the table and thrusts it towards him. “Come on. I’ll annoy you until you agree.”

Jaemin plucks his phone from Renjun’s fingers, mostly out of a fear that Renjun is too drunk to hold on to it for long. “Now?” he says.

Renjun nods.

“Neither of them will say yes.”

“Just try.”

Jaemin doesn’t bother to text Jeno. On Friday nights, Jeno always has dinner at home, a dutiful son who loves his mother’s cooking more than anything else. He used to sometimes invite Jaemin over, and Jaemin would revel in the feeling of being doted on by people who seem to understand, instinctively, what it is he craves. It’s been months since the last time Jeno asked him.

He has no hopes for Haechan, but Renjun’s gaze is insistent.

By the time Haechan arrives, thirty minutes have passed, and Jaemin is occupied trying to stop Renjun from heading over to the bar to complain about the state of Jaemin’s drink. 

“Jaemin?”

Jaemin has to crane his neck to look past his right shoulder, hands busy keeping Renjun pressed down into his seat. He doesn’t need to bother. Haechan’s arrival is a potent distraction. Renjun relaxes, taking a moment to give Haechan an appraising once over.

Looking back at Jaemin, Renjun says, “He’s different than I expected.”

Jaemin grins. Haechan is less amused.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Renjun. Jaemin’s roommate.” Renjun reaches across the table for Jaemin’s drink and passes it over. “Here. Try this and tell me if you taste any vodka.”

Haechan takes a sip, swallows, and says, “That’s just juice.”

“See!” Renjun says, obnoxious in triumph. “Okay, now tell me: don’t you think Jaemin should ask for it to be remade?”

Haechan glances between them. His gaze lands squarely on Jaemin’s face, and he says, “I think Jaemin should decide that for himself.”

Over the course of the night, between the rounds of drinks and the impromptu detour to the closest noraebang, Jaemin learns something surprising. Haechan can be charming when he wants to be. He’s natural about it, winning Renjun over with seemingly little effort. By the time they stumble out onto the street, Renjun has an arm wrapped around Haechan’s shoulders, laughing and calling Haechan his “new best friend”.

The promotion in status means Haechan stays with them during the taxi ride home, helps Jaemin carry Renjun up the stairs and into his bed. He pats Renjun’s hair and wishes him goodnight, and Jaemin watches them from a few steps away.

After they leave Renjun’s bedroom, and Jaemin closes the door, Haechan turns to face him. It’s only the two of them left in the quiet of Jaemin’s living room, cast in the soft, yellow glow of the dim hallway light. 

“Hey,” Haechan says.

Jaemin doesn’t think he’s ever really studied Haechan’s face before. To him, Haechan is more of a presence than a person; a force that sets him off-balance whenever he’s around.

He’s cuter than Jaemin realised. He has a soft nose and softer lips, pressed into a pout that Jaemin stares at for longer than he maybe should. When Jaemin cups his hand gently to the side of Haechan’s face, his skin feels soft too.

Kissing Haechan doesn’t bring the fire Jaemin expects from too many times caught by the bright spark in Haechan’s gaze. It’s more of a slow-building warmth; a sense of quiet longing and want that seeps through the soft press of Haechan’s lips and makes Jaemin ache. 

Jaemin kisses Haechan slowly and doesn’t think about anything else but how he feels, right now, like this.

“I didn’t expect you to ask me out tonight,” Haechan says later over the phone, when he’s on the train heading back to his apartment and Jaemin is lying in the darkness of his bedroom.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Jaemin says. “Renjun wanted to meet you.”

“Huh.”

A long pause follows. Jaemin stares up at the ceiling and waits.

“Do you think you would have ever messaged me again? If Renjun hadn’t gotten involved?”

Jaemin thinks for a second.

“Does it matter?” 

It takes a few weeks of Jeno dodging his invites for Jaemin to pin him down for lunch at one of their old favourite spots. It’s comfortingly unchanged: still the same posters adorning the walls, the same chips and scratches on the wooden tables. Jaemin knows what Jeno wants to order without needing to ask. He still does, just in case. Jeno doesn’t surprise him.

The thing about Jeno--the thing that always got Jaemin into trouble--is that he never really seems to change. He sticks to what he likes, treats everyone with a constancy that feels genuine. He never tries too hard to go against his instincts. 

He still smiles at Jaemin the same way he always has.

They chat about mundane things while they wait for their food. The latest PUBG update, which air purifier Jeno should buy, some casual updates on their mutual friends. Conversation halts when the food comes. Eating becomes their only focus for at least a few minutes, and the sounds of chewing and slurping fill the silence.

It’s only when his stomach is full that Jaemin turns his attention back onto Jeno. He just observes him for a little while, mulling over his feelings. Jeno notices his staring and shoots him a questioning look over the rim of his glass as he brings it to his lips.

Jaemin lowers his chopsticks and says, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew how I felt about you?”

A pained look flashes across Jeno’s features. Guilt, Jaemin supposes.

He swallows and lowers his glass to the table, meeting Jaemin’s gaze. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So, what? You avoided me?” Jaemin scoffs. “That’s bullshit, Jeno. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“Yeah,” Jeno says. “That’s the problem.”

Jaemin frowns. “I don’t understand.”

It takes Jeno a few seconds to respond, mouth twisted into a small frown as he gathers his thoughts. “You’re kind of a lot, you know. Not in a bad way, just… I wasn’t sure how you would take it if I told you I didn’t feel the same way.”

Jeno looks up and offers Jaemin a helpless shrug. “I didn’t want to stop being your friend.”

It’s not really what Jaemin was expecting. He’s known for long enough how Jeno feels about him, though there were always moments he hoped for more. What surprises him is Jeno’s fear that he wouldn’t cope with rejection. It feels somehow like a lack of trust; like Jaemin deserves better than to be thought of that way.

Jaemin chews at his lower lip as he thinks it over. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe if he felt more heartbroken right now--a crushing, all-encompassing blow rather than the dim sense of resignation settling in his chest--his reaction would be different. It’s hard to say. 

“I’m still kind of mad at you,” Jaemin says.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaemin will get over it. He’s been friends with Jeno too long to let his hurt feelings fester any longer. In some ways it’s a relief to think they can move on from this moment, return to status quo. 

He wonders how differently everything would have played out a few months ago.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know,” Jaemin says, thinking he owes Jeno at least a little reassurance. “I think I might be over you.”

“Oh,” Jeno says. “Really?”

Jeno is good at many things, but he’s not a good liar. Jaemin searches his face with a frown, and concludes that Jeno seems a lot less surprised than he should be.

“You know something.”

With his mouth clamped shut, Jeno shakes his head. The flash of panic in his eyes disappears quickly, but Jaemin is watching closely enough to see it.

“I don’t,” Jeno says.

Jaemin narrows his eyes. Before he can argue, Jeno interrupts, holding up a hand to keep Jaemin at bay. “Please, Jaemin. Don’t make me piss off two people in one day. I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s annoying, and Jaemin thinks for a moment about pushing--he thinks he has the right to--but in the end, he relents. Really, Jeno has said enough. Jaemin can fill in the gaps by himself.

After leaving lunch with Jeno, Jaemin turns left where he should turn right and walks to the station instead of returning home. He has to stop when he reaches the gates, struck by an important realisation. Someone bumps into him and Jaemin steps aside, out of the way, as he reaches for his phone.

“I don’t know where you live,” Jaemin tells Haechan when Haechan answers his call.

He also doesn’t know if Haechan is even home, or whether he wants to see Jaemin right now, but those details don’t seem as relevant to him in that moment. Haechan gives him an address, and that’s all Jaemin needs.

It takes him forty minutes to reach Haechan’s neighbourhood. He gets a bit lost, and Haechan has to rescue him, leading Jaemin from a convenience store to his building, up the stairs and into his dorm. No one else seems to be around when they enter, but Haechan still takes Jaemin into his bedroom and closes the door.

It’s small and cramped, only space for a single bed and a large, wooden dresser topped with a scattered assortment of Haechan’s belongings. Jaemin sits on the edge of the mattress and watches Haechan quietly as he moves things around, making the space slightly tidier.

“I don’t understand you,” Jaemin says.

Haechan turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “That’s funny,” he says. “I don’t understand you either.”

He shifts so he’s facing Jaemin and leans back against his dresser, arms folded across his chest. “So we don’t understand each other, and you’ve already made it clear you don’t like me very much. I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

“I don’t dislike you.”

“Great. Good start.”

Jaemin frowns. “What do you want me to say?”

Haechan studies him for a moment, face drawn in quiet consideration. He pushes himself off the dresser and makes his way over to join Jaemin on the bed, leaving enough space between them when he sits for them not to touch. Jaemin looks down at the gap separating their knees.

“Jeno told me I should be more patient with you.”

Jaemin lifts his head. “You talk to Jeno about me?”

“He used to bring you up sometimes,” Haechan says, not really answering Jaemin’s question. “Back when I first joined and we became friends. He always said such nice things about you. Then I met you and you were a fucking asshole.”

“You were intruding.”

“I get it. But it’s not like I was trying to steal Jeno away from you.” Haechan turns his head and meets Jaemin’s gaze. “You’re kind of more my type.”

His eyes flicker over Jaemin’s face, subtle enough to pass unnoticed if Jaemin were not staring so intensely. Jaemin has no subtlety. He’s drawn to the shape of Haechan’s lips, lost in the memory of how they felt pressed against him. 

“You’re staring,” Haechan says.

Jaemin doesn’t respond. He leans forward slowly, keeping his eyes open so he can see the way Haechan reacts in his moment of anticipation.

The kiss isn’t anything dramatic, just the soft touch of two people trying to fit themselves together. Jaemin draws back slightly and says, “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“Really?” Haechan says. “I think it will.”

He sounds so confident.

“Why?”

“Because I want it to.”

It’s such a simple answer. Jaemin can’t argue.

“You can leave if you want,” Haechan says, shifting back slightly. “Or you can stay here and kiss me. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

Jaemin feels like it should be, but something about Haechan’s easy certainty makes all of his well-reasoned doubts fade from his mind. He moves his hand across from his lap to rest on the underside of Haechan’s wrist, and thinks about how easy it would be to tug Haechan back into his orbit.

He doesn’t have to. Haechan moves of his own accord, lifting his fingers to touch the side of Jaemin’s face. Jaemin leans in, closes his eyes, and meets Haechan halfway.

  
  
  



End file.
